Tea Time

Tea time is big in Niamey.  Every workday at the center, morning and evening we see men gathering for tea.  Why just the men I am not sure but on the center it is definitely a men’s activity.  

The "Men's" tea time.  The black plastic bag is required.

Well on Friday, Mary took me to a home of a West African, for tea.  I guess we could call it a ladies tea.  We took Mary’s house help, Dalia, with us because the lady doesn’t speak French or Hausa or Zarma.  She speaks Fulani and we needed Dalia, who does, to translate for us.  Also I will be referring to her as the lady as I don’t know her name.  She is Ali Musair’s wife.  That is how she was introduced to me.  Mary who has known her for several years does not know her name either.  Guess that is just the way it is. 

This was not a tea party of china cups, silver tea service, cloth napkins, silver spoons, and scones.  This was an authentic West African tea party and what you get is green chai tea.  Actually Mary brought the tea that Dalia had purchased for this occasion in the local march.

The tea party was held in the lady’s home.  The lady is Tuareg; that means she belongs to a nomadic people group of West Africa.  Evidences of the Tuaregs are all over Niamey.  They produce the nicest leather and silver items that expats like me like to purchase.  Actually their craft/art work is hung in many homes, restaurants, and office buildings like the dentist office I frequented.   

Ali Musair brought his family to Niamey from Mali several years ago after a severe drought drove them to move to the city.  The lady explained that while she wants to preserve her culture she is actually happy to be living in the city and not on the move all the time and not so much at the mercy of the water supply for their subsistence.  Living in the city is easier she said and their children can go to school. 

Looking at pictures of themselves on the iPad

We may have been in Niamey but you would not have known it.  The family home is in a walled compound like all of Niamey only on the inside of their walls were three or four woven dome shaped straw homes with no electricity and no running water all built on the orange sand that is everywhere here.  This family purchases water sold in big plastic containers.  The lady goes to the marche a couple of times each day getting just enough food for a meal as there is no place to keep unused food. 

We removed our shoes when entering the home (even though the floor inside is the same orange sand.)  We sat on woven mats on the floor; as there are no chairs or tables.  We were wearing our pagnes (African cloth clothing/dress.) 

The lady made tea in a small metal teapot that she placed on a bed of charcoal held by a little wire “grill.”   She placed the tealeaves directly in the water.  Making tea this way took much longer than my heating a cup of water in the microwave. 

After a long while she began pouring the tea into small juice like glasses (a little bigger but not much bigger than a shot glass) and then she would pour it back into the teapot.  She did this several times.  And she would pour the tea by holding the tea pot shoulder height into these tiny glasses – I would have had tea everywhere but the glasses.  I was told the Tuaregs have pouring tea contests – like pouring from the back of a camel into these tiny cups!!  

Pouring tea.

We were given a first cup with lots of sugar.  The first cup is quite strong but I managed to drink it.  When we finished she rinsed the glasses in a tub of water and redid the whole procedure until we were finally given a 2^nd cup which actually tasted better as it was not quite as strong but still had plenty of sugar.  

I was told that this tea is quite addictive but that the adults all drink this tea at least once every day.  I guess that is much like my coffee drinking habits.

The two children of the family were also there.  They were so adorable and so well behaved.  They were like most African children that we have been around - quiet and in the background.  They do not interrupt or whine or cry or fight or ask for tea or ask for anything.  Amazing! 

Anyway, I felt privileged to have shared tea with these ladies and to experience the living space of this family. 

Mary and my new friends

African hospitality is so warm and welcoming.  This lady for example was completely present to the moment – as if she had nothing more important to do than spend a whole morning having tea with us.  It was a special morning to be sure.

The Hippo Hunt

We had so much fun going on the Elephant Hunt we had to go on the Hippo Hunt.

To see hippos, other than those being abused at the Zoo here, you have to go on a boat up the river.  Hippos move around the river but the guides seem to have a pretty good idea where they are hiding on any given day.

Our Hippo Hunt started just below the JFK Bridge.  Eight of us went on a narrow boat that thankfully had cushions on the bottom and you sat/laid on the cushions.  We went with Mary and Stan, their son Daniel and his girl friend, Mayan, Barb, and Dennis.  Dennis is a bank examiner from San Diego that goes around the world on his vacation time doing audits of SIL centers.  He was here checking up on us and so to distract him from his task we took him on the Hippo Hunt. 

The boat has an outboard on it but doesn’t go very fast nor does it make much noise when it is running so you get a real peaceful cruise out of the trip.  The Hippos must be about 3 miles upstream.  Upstream is toward the SIL center so we were going past the city of Niamey.  On the shore women were washing dishes with the children around and separately men were washing clothes.  Then there were families that were having a beach break. 

I mentioned washing clothes.  They were washing clothes in this muddy river.  It was like a really big Pilgrim cleaners right there on the river only the drier was this hot sun hitting the rock, sand, or dirt the clothes were drying on.  Near the bridge, they use the side rails of the bridge to dry clothes.  I have to say that despite the dirty brown water, the dirty rocks or sand, and the ever-present dust I have not seen people wearing dirty clothes.  I don’t know how they do it but they look great.

The Niamey Hippo Hunting Marina.  Our boat was at the end of the dock.

After you’ve seen your 15^th group of people washing clothes you begin to feel a need to see a hippo or something and sure enough we saw two hippos.  When you see hippos on the river you don’t really see hippos.  What you see are two eyes and a nose sticking out of the water connected by something black.  Hippos are kind of like ice bergs, you know there is a lot more of what you are looking at than what you see only you can’t really see it.  Hippos are big, fast, and very dangerous.  At times they completely submerge and you don’t know where they are but you suspect they are under the boat.

Two really big hippos, honest.

Again, after a while, like with people washing clothes in the river, you begin to have seen enough black spots in the water.  Our guide must have sensed this so we continued up another 2 miles or so to the dam.  There is a spillway across the river, how the hippos get over it I never did learn, but the fishing is good on the down riverside of the spillway.  The fishermen discovered this fact before I did and so there were boats out on the water and men casting their nets there.  It was fun to watch them and every time they caught fish.  We walked to the dam for the SIL Center so we were not far from home.  

Don't try this at home.

This is not catch and release.

The trip back down river was much the same as the trip up only we followed the other side of the river.  Took us about an hour each way.  We would wave at the people on shore and be rewarded by the children with the biggest smiles.  As was said in a previous blog, this may be the most undeveloped country in the world but that fact hasn’t gotten to the people here yet.  They are either born with permanent smiles or are quite happy with their life. 

The boys on the shore.

One boy says to another boy, "What are those goofy white people doing now?"

It must be time for us to be going home because we’ve seen giraffes, elephants, and now hippos.  We have seen the sights of Niamey.

Waiting

We are winding down here.

We are down to two more times at church, two more times to tutor, two more long prayer times, and two more weeks.  We are ready to come home.

Sally has been working on the final hour-long prayer time she will lead on the 9^th, the day we leave.  She is doing it on the concept of “time”.  Her thoughts are quite poetic and profound; mine are more cynical.  Let me share mine first.

I need to modify the line, “Everything takes time in Africa,” to “Everything takes a long time in Africa.”  Let me give you a couple of examples.

Every so often we drive up to a place for brochettes, small shish kabobs, This place is out of doors so you can drive up to order. They are cooking on a grill that is right out by the street.  Don’t think of a drive up window.  It is not McDonalds.  To me it is the symbol of African time.  One night I spent more than 45 minutes waiting for my over cooked food.  I learned that if you don't order French fries with it the wait could be cut down to 15 minutes.  Fast Food, I don’t think so?  

Along this line, I go to the bank with the Finance guy (Stan) to get cash to pay the employees, for expenses, and for cash withdrawals for people like me.  He calls ahead and tells them how much cash he needs. We go to the bank and the first thing he does is to get a signature from his account manager.  Then he has to get a signature from one of the customer service people.  After many trips, we worked out that while he is doing this I get in line.  Often there are 5 or fewer people in line.  Three windows but only one is open.  We have waited over an hour many times.  Even when he gets to the window, with his two signatures, it still takes the teller 10 minutes or more to get the money.  We have no idea what she does during this time because there is no customer communication.  Since she is doing us a favor by giving us the Bank’s money she does not have to be nice about it.

Talk about waiting, add the Internet speed or often no speed to these two examples and you’ve got days of accumulated time spent doing nothing but waiting. 

However, many people here would say they much prefer the pace of life in Africa better than that of the United States.  Slower is good.  Hectic is bad.  I buy that   But I have to say too slow is not good and hectic once and a while is not all bad.  Showing just a little awareness of people waiting and waiting would not be all that inconsiderate.  Instead waiting time has gone the way of plastic bags in the streets, you just get used to it.  Well, not everybody gets used to it. 

Then there is the concept of “meeting time.”  Our prayer time is at 9:45.  At 9:45 there is Sally and I.  Then at 9:50 or so the other expats arrive.  Sometime between 9:55 and 10:05 the locals wander in.  Prayer time takes about 20 minutes so we break for the 10:00 break time around 10:20 or 10:30.  We are even late for coffee. 

Doesn’t matter.  They don’t worry about time here.  If you are talking to someone and are supposed to go to a meeting, you finish with the person first.  They live in the present.  What a dreadful thing to do when you could live like I do, in the future.  Always worried about the next thing to do.  Even the lady with 8 kids doesn’t let herself be a soccer mom.  She gets tired but she doesn’t get harried. 

Lastly, you can’t take time seriously when you’ve built in a thing called “nap time.”  Shutting down for two hours in the middle of the day is so inefficient.  I just hate having to participate in this ritual… but I force myself to go with the flow so to speak.

Le Café

It is the little things that sustain us. 

Last week we took Beki out to dinner.  Beki is the girl that lives in a town about 50 miles away; we met her at the Baptism back in October.  We see her every so often at church when she comes to Niamey for a sanity check.  Beki is the only white person in this village and has been trying to “work with the youth” there.  Not a very rewarding endeavor but as she says, “I love my life here.” 

Anyway, Beki recommended a new café for us to try out.  We have eaten at a Chinese, Indian, Italian, American, and at three different hotels.  All of them have been nice getaways.  We order things like omelets, brochettes, pizza like food (PLF), egg rolls, and mutton.  All of this is very nice and a welcome change from the sauce over noodles, rice, and potatoes that we have at home.

Beki’s café sounded nice so we gave it a shot; actually we gave it three shots in the last week.  It is a small café run by a French lady next door to one of the grocery stores we go to.  It is not fancy.  Two walls are all blackboards with menus written on them, the chairs are all different kinds, and the napkins are kept inside old 33lp records that have been melted into a bowl. 

For us, it has been a touch of heaven.  It’s just a café but it feels like so much more.  So far we have had small scoops of ice cream “bols”.  Delicious.  Then of course the chocolate oatmeal cookie is a must along with a large cup of French press coffee.  Most coffee here is thimble size and to get a big cup is a blessing.  I know we should not get too excited about a café but we are.  I’m sure that means we have other emotional issues we need to deal with but this café has really been a bright spot for us. 

We are branching out Friday by meeting Beki for breakfast.  She leaves the next day for six months in France so that she can improve her French.  She expects to live the rest of her life in Niger and so needs to speak good French.  Then on Saturday we are showing two women our new discovery cafe for breakfast.  So you can see, once we latch on to a good thing we really go for it.  It is the Starbucks syndrome.

Our internet has been unreliable, mostly "un" for the last month.  Every few days it comes up but only weakly and not for long.  We rush to download emails and try to get some news of the world but we don't get much.  Then too, our phone doesn't work when the internet is down.  We get frustrated until we remind each other that for missionaries that came here only a few years ago had very little contact with friends and family at home.  We are blessed for what we do have, not what we don't have. As with the posting of this blog, the internet came on this morning for a bit.

The Desert

There is quite a contrast between living in the land of 10,000 lakes and the desert land of Niamey, Niger.  One has water; one doesn’t.  One is green and full of color (spring, summer, fall) and one is well mostly orange. 

Bird stalking goat in Desert

We are told that the sand dunes in the north are spectacular.  We will only see them in pictures because the unrest in this part of the world restricts where we can go – and the sand dunes of the north is one of the restrictions.  Unfortunately we are missing a big piece of Niger.  But I digress and to tell you the truth there is plenty of sand right here in the city.   

Today I am thinking about water and green and home and the lack of color and green here.  I am feeling grateful to have my home in a place that has so much water.  I wonder, why do we get all that water, and here there is so little of it.

In this country of so little water, I am feeling very grateful that we are living at the SIL Center where we do have indoor plumbing and water that works.  We also are close to the river – so we get to see water!!

Not fertile

In many parts of Niger villagers walk many kilometers to get any water.  As Elgin has written in other blogs, there is a drought in much of the country that leads to hunger issues as they cannot grow their crops nor feed their animals without water. 

This desert, like all desert countries, is hot, dusty, and very dry.  There is very little green anywhere, as there is very little water.  Flowers are rare – there are some but they are in places where they are being watered.  You couldn’t find, much less buy or pick a bouquet, for your table or send flowers to someone.  I have not seen any flowers in homes or shops. 

Thinking about the visible and practical aspects of having or not having water is making me think about the spiritual implications too.  I know water was the theme at Colonial last fall.  Thankfully we were able to hear a couple of Daniel’s water sermons.  So I know that there are many spiritual applications involving water. 

I know there have been “desert” times in my life – times when God seems absent or silent – times when I don’t even want to pray – times where I try to fill my need for “God” with busyness or things.  These times are like sand traps.  Easy to roll into and lots harder to get out!

So it amazes me that far this experience, where we are actually in the desert, has been such a spiritual high.  I have felt nourished – watered with living water if you will. 

So I wonder – how can I live in Minnesota where there is so much water and at times feel like I am in the desert? And how can I live in the desert of Niamey and have so much living water? 

I wonder too, would I walk and walk until I found water?   Do I realize that my life depends on “living” water?  When I live where there is so much water – do I take it for granted?  Do I think it will always be available? 

Soccer Field 

I am grateful to be experiencing God in the land of drought which tells me living water isn’t determined by the water available to us but is dependent on God.  It is God who gives us “living water” and the miracle is that he gives it in the desert.  For that we are grateful.   

    

Literacy in Niger

Back in August, when I was looking for information on Niger, this place we were going to spend 6 months of our lives, I found we would be going to a place made up of superlatives.  It is one of the poorest, one of the hottest, one of the least developed countries with one of the highest birth rates, and of course, one of the lowest literacy rates in the world.  Actually in literacy, Wikipedia has Niger at only 28.7% literate ranked 180^th out of 183 countries.  Its neighbor Mali is on the bottom.  And, the literacy rate for women is at only 17%.  If you go into the villages the rate is even lower.  However, in talking to people here I am told that these numbers are somewhat suspect.  I am told that much of the data comes from village chief estimates not from individual testing.  So, who knows?

However, I did learn something interesting about literacy estimates in Niger.  The estimates, from the Wikipedia chart mentioned above, are based on the ability to read Roman or Latin Script, (that’s the script that we use (a,,b,c.)  I am told that if you base the percentage on their ability to read any script the number is closer to ~80% literate.  Interesting that our Western view of the world doesn’t count those who read in an African or Arab script.  With that in mind, I would like to tell you about my interpretation of what I took out of a class I sat in on here at the Center. 

The class lasted a week and about 20 translators attended.  The topic was Ajami, a derivation of Arabic Script used by people in West Africa.  The translators were learning the basics of writing in Ajami script because it is a script that many in this part of the world can already read.  The thinking is that this would be a new and helpful way to bring the Bible to people in West Africa.  The people who know about these things are finding that using this script is a good way to teach Nigeriens about how to prevent malaria, AIDS, dysentery, and good farming techniques.  And it can be used to teach Biblical stories.

Evidently, not too long ago, someone discovered that many people in West Africa know Ajami script but didn’t know Roman or Latin script yet all of the translation work was in the latter.  So for people to read the bible in their own language they had to learn Roman script first.

For a long time efforts to translate into Ajami were, and maybe still are, resisted by some.  After all, it is the script of Islam and Muslims and to many that means it is evil/bad.  We are encouraged to fear scripts that look like Arabic Script.  For example, 

The copy in the parenthesis links "radical terrorism" to
the Arabic script.

However, the script is only a script, just as people are only people.  The people in Niger use Ajami.  Yes they are taught to read it in the Mosque schools but that doesn’t make the script bad.  That would be like saying this the Hausa language is bad and so we are not going to use it to help you learn about good health matters and the Bible.  So the thinking now is, let’s take advantage of the fact the Mosques are teaching them Ajami literacy and just make sure the Bible and other writings that are beneficial to their health are not only in the language of their heart but in the script of their heart as well.

West Africans have a great respect for Ajami literature and for people who can write it.  For a foreigner to know it opens lots of doors.  The script is given a kind of a “holy” status and not just because it is the script of Islam.  All passages of either the Koran or the Bible are given fancy borders and covers.  Also, many governments have included Ajami in their communications.  Bible translators that don’t follow the government’s use are excluded.  Ajami is a part of life here; you see it everywhere.  You can buy an iPhone app in Ajami, it is on Corn Flakes boxes, signs are in both French and Ajami, and even McDonalds uses Roman and Ajami on their signs.  We don’t have a McDonalds in Niger but if we did…I would have a burger and fries.

As a part of the class we learned to write in Ajami.  I was told it was an easy script to learn, kind of like the French language.  For me, it is impossible.  You start out writing from right to left.  So to spell the word “bounty” you start on the right hand side of the page and spell it backwards, “ytnoub.”  There are no vowels so you don’t really worry about the o and the u yet.  

We started with “bnty” and they are all easy letters to learn, a backward L with one or two dots place on top or bottom and you’ve learned four letters.  But…that is only if the letter is the first letter in the word.  For example, if the letter “t” is not the first letter then there is a totally different symbol.  If the letter “y” is the last letter of the word it is another symbol.  So you have to learn three symbols for each consonant, the symbol when it is the first letter, the symbol when it is in the middle, and the symbol for when it is at the end.  There is not similarity between the sybols..  No that’s not right, you have to learn a fourth symbol when the letter is by itself.  Then you go back through and add the vowels above and below the consonants.  Impossible.  One other thing, I don’t write clearly in Roman script, well Ajami is more like calligraphy, which is beyond the skill level of my finger dexterity.  Just look.  This is the Hausa language in Ajami.  My hands can’t make these symbols.

It was a fun exercise and I am appreciative of the efforts of these translators to know and learn this script.  Many feel literacy is the key to healthy living here.  The underlying current here is that the Nigeriens are not very well educated and hence not very intelligent.  In their environment, and their language, and in their script they know more than we do.  Just as in our environment, our language, and our script we know more than they do.  It’s just a difference in situations not a difference in intelligence.

Smiles

One of the outstanding characteristics of the Africans I have encountered here is their smile.  There are four youngish boys, of course to us everyone is youngish, here learning to be translators that have just infectious smiles.  You can’t help but want to interact with them. The smiles go along with another African tradition of shaking hands so that you get them both, the handshake and a smile. 

Normally Nigeriens don't smile to the camera so we don't have many pictures but sometimes they just can't help it.

The smile just might be the universal language.  And the African smile is the best.  My walks are punctuated with African smiles and greetings in French or Zarma or Hausa and sometimes now, even in English, but it is the smiles that make these interactions so special.

A smile communicates so much – friendliness, acceptance, and warmth.  It says, do not be afraid, it’s OK, life is good.  A smile is contagious.  You receive one and you just want to give one back – or pay it forward if you will.  It’s hard to be grumpy or angry with a smile on your face.  It seems to me that a smiling face is a sign of a smiling heart, a smiling attitude. 

Africans seem to go through their days smiling which is why even though this is one of the poorest countries, even though this is one of the hottest places ever, even though life here is hard, you would never know it if you look at their faces – look at their smiles.  It’s as if their attitudes aren’t affected by their circumstances.  The smile seems to determine their approach to life and it makes this place wonderful despite the dust, heat, poverty, etc. 

A friend who had spent much time in Africa told us before we left – with smiles – who needs French?  While we do wish our French were better we can also say that she is right.

If I bring anything home with me, I think what I want to bring most is an African smile.   

Religion in Niger

Every morning (5:30) we wake up to the Muezzin’s call to prayer.  Well actually it isn’t the Muezzin.  He used to climb the stairs of the Minaret and yell.  Now, he just pushes a button on the tape player or iPod and it comes out on a loud speaker from the top of the Mosque.  Actually, it is on the loud speaker on every Mosque in town.  They all start at about the same time, but not quite the same time, so it is like an echo floating around town.  The loud speakers work very well so everyone in town hears the call… at 5:30 in the morning.  Think of an air raid siren going off 5 times a day, starting at 5:30.  We’d do well to add a microphone to our church bells and ring them more often.

The call to prayer is heard at dawn, at the midday, about the middle of the afternoon, just after sunset, and at nightfall about two hours after sunset.  It is called the “Adhan” and goes like this:

Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar,  (God is the greatest, God is the greatest) (2x)

Ash-hadu an’ la ilaha ill Allah,  (I bear witness that there is no God but Allah) (2x)

Ash-hadu ana Muhammadan Rasoolallah, (I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of Allah) (2x)

Hayya ‘alas-Salah, (Rush to prayer) (4x)

Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar, (God is the greatest, God is the greatest)

La illaha ill Allah (There is no God but Allah

Sometimes in the morning prayer I am told they add the line, "It is better to pray than to sleep."  

Of course, not everybody prays, not everybody prays all five times, and not everybody is into it.  It is like Christianity, some are into it, and some aren’t.

It is interesting to see the men praying.  (I never see the women pray and they are not obliged to so although there seems to be some controversy about this.)  Several or many will gather out by the street, in a Mosque, on a patio,  I even saw them praying at a fabric store.  There is a cleansing ritual before prayers to get your ready and then a set ritual during prayers.  The ritual is folding your arms and facing Mecca, kneeling, prostrating yourself, and then rising.  Everyone does it all together.  Those who do pray regularly will always have a prayer rug with them.

I guess what is remarkable is the commitment these men have to their faith.  Just think of taking 5-10minute quiet times, 5 times a day, everyday and showing the world that you are doing it.  We don’t have time for it.  The “it,” being God.  Sally and I have been attending prayer time each weekday.  It lasts about 20 minutes except on Wednesdays it goes for an hour.  This is a big chunk out of our morning, a disruption; a good one, but still a disruption at times.  I can’t imagine doing it 5 times each day.

We have been exposed to a lot of Nigerien Christians too.  The ones we have been around are certainly into their faith.  They need to be for many of them who have not grown up in the faith have had to endure banishment from their families and communities.  For some, to say that you believe in Jesus is to say that there is more than one God and in Islam that is not allowed.  I can’t imagine we are much more accepting when someone converts to another faith, even within Christianity.

We have been told that Christianity is exploding in Niger.  While it may be a bang, I don’t think it is a very big bang yet.  But those that have joined are going to change the world because of the commitment they have had to make and the social hardship they have had to endure.  There is no milk-toast Christianity here.